Founding Fathers
by Well Groomed Goldfish
Summary: Possible oneshot? There isn't enough love for the founders of America, so here is my attempt to fix that. Please look inside for full summary; again, lame summaries are lame.
1. Chapter 1

**So there was a discussion on lj, "Who is your fav historical figure?" mine is the founding fathers, and after reading some of the comments, i decided that there really WASN'T enough love for those wonderful men. so i decided to put this out~**

**I may continue this...and go through each of the founders. Thoughts on that or should i just leave it as a drabble? Idk. I just love the idea that they met alfred before they knew him as "america"...**

**Date: 1751**

* * *

"Samuel! Good god, you blundering moron, where have you gone off to?"

The boy ran through the forest, his feet making a light pattering noise against the worn path. He was dressed rather simply, his dark hair pulled back into a tight pony tail, his face stern and drawn into a frown. He wore a plain, white shirt, a simple cravat, tanned breaches, a matching vest, and dark, buckled shoes. On his right arm, he carried his coat, having removed it some time ago due to the heat.

He paused, panting for breath, before looking around once more, "SAMUELLLL!" he hollered, cupping his hands to his face. He paused for a second, letting the sound echo around. However, when he was met with no response, he scowled and started shuffling along the path, grumbling under his breath.

"Stupid…bloody drunken bastard…"He continued along the path for some times in this manner, not pausing until he reached the end. It led to a wide open field, and in the distance, he could see a small, rather quaint cottage. Smoke was coming from the chimney, and as he strained his eyes, he could see two figures squatted in front of the door.

One of them he quickly recognized as Samuel.

He let out a sharp growl, and drawing himself up to full height (which, though he loathed to admit it, was not much) he stormed up to the house, his coat flapping behind him. As he approached the pair, he realized that he did not recognize Samuel's companion. He was a boy, perhaps younger than himself if only by a few years, with bright blue eyes and golden hair. He wore a light cotton shirt and blue trousers, dirtied and torn.

Upon hearing him approach, the pair, Samuel and the boy looked up, the former's face breaking into a grin.

"John! What took you so long!" Samuel stood up, from where he had been squatting on the ground, the blue-eyed boy following suit.

"What took me so long!" John cried, exasperated, "You go galloping off on your precious horse, leaving _me_ to fend for myself! You drag me away from the center of the city, off to some…some..._backwater_ town, then run off and tell me to follow you! Good god! Are you mental!"

"John" Samuel said, staring at the shorter boy, "Did you ask the stable hand for a horse?"

John spluttered, waving his hands about, "Wh..what, no!"

"You were supposed to." Samuel responded, smiling slightly, "Or what ? Is little Johnny too proud to ask for help?"

John glared up at the other, his face, already red from the running he had done, slowly turning redder. However, Samuel seemed unnerved, laughing and opting to ruffle his hair instead, "Now, John, since we've got that figured out, there's someone I'd like you to meet"

Samuel stepped aside, allowing the blue eyed boy to approach John, "John, this is Alfred. Alfred, John."

"It's awesome to meet you!" the boy chirped, grabbing John's hand and wringing it enthusiastically. John gasped at the strength of the boy's grip; it seemed far too strong for a boy who looked a mere thirteen years old.

"The pleasure is mine" John managed to grind out, cradling his hand to the chest once he had been able to wrest it from of the boy's grip.

"So you know Sam?" Alfred asked, smiling at John.

"In a manner of speaking" John said, still scowling at Samuel, who stood to the side, grinning like an idiot, "He's my second cousin."

"Oh!" Alfred exclaimed, excitedly, "That's pretty nice. So you're John Adams? Sam talked about you a little!"

"Indeed." John replied, ignoring the smirk that Samuel was undoubtedly sending his way, "Either way, I never did catch your surname"

"Jones! It's Alfred F. Jones!"

"Wonderful. " John said, nodding curtly.

"Wanna see what we were doing before you came?" Alfred asked, quickly scurrying back to whatever they had been working on, excitement radiating from his very being.

"Why not," John shrugged, following the pair to where they had been upon his arrival, "I don't suppose it could be too-GOOD GOD WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME WERE YOU TWO DOING!"

Alfred and Samuel grinned at him, clearly amused at the other's reaction. There, on the ground was a rather large keg labeled, "gunpowder". Attached to it was a fuse, made of white rope. Next to the explosives was a pair of something that looked like wings, made of a wooden frame and rather thin cloth, and a cannon.

"I'm gonna fly!" Alfred exclaimed, his bright blue eyes swimming with excitement, "See, we made wings, and Sam's gonna shoot me outta the cannon, and then the wings will open up an' I'll drift safely to the ground!"

"No, you won't drift _safely to the ground_", John growled out, resisting the urge to throttles his moronic cousin for allowing a boy to go this far with an idea, "You'll be blown into a billion godforsaken bits, and perhaps, yes those _bits_ of you may go _flying_ out of your bloody cannon and drift _safely to the ground_, but you _will not_. Because _you will be dead._"

"No I won't!" the boy cried out, "I won't die. I can't die."

"Yes, yes, actually, you can." John said, pinching the bridge of his nose, and trying to prevent the seemingly inevitable migraine, "You can die."

"Nu-huh."

"Yes."

"No."

"_Yes you can_."

"Nope!"

"Good god!", John cried, exasperated. Ignoring Alfred's protest, he grabbed Samuel, dragging him away from the younger boy.

"Are you _crazy!_" John cried, glaring up at his second cousin, "_You told that boy you were going to blast him out of a cannon!"_

"He asked me to!" Samuel cried, holding his hands up in self-defense, "He was really excited about it too!"

"_AND YOU LISTENED TO HIM!"_

"Relax John" Samuel said, rolling his eyes, "You know, for someone of only 16 years, you certainly have a rather large stick shoved way too far up your ass."

"Let's not talk about what is up my ass, but rather what you are planning on doing to that poor child."

"I wasn't planning on actually shooting him out of the cannon, John" Samuel said, "The wings aren't even close to done. It'll take forever to finish them. And after that, I'll just throw him off a small cliff. I don't know, tell him the cannon is broken."

"Because tossing a child over the edge of a cliff isn't going to get you into any trouble at all."

"Have some faith, John" Samuel said, shrugging, "I think the wings might actually work. Truth be told, I'm somewhat interested in the outcome myself. Plus this kid just won't take no for an answer…he's obsessed with flying, and just wouldn't drop it. Plus, I said small cliff. He might get a few bones, worst. And they say the burnt hands learns best, no?"

"No" John growled, smacking his palm to his forehead, "No. No, no, no. No. Samuel, you can't just go _tossing _random children off of escarpments. _Are you insane_? What about the boy's parents. What do you expect to tell them when you bring their son back with a few broken bones?"

"He doesn't have parents."

"What?"

Samuel frowned, his usually cheerful disposition fading into a troubled expression, "He…lives alone in that house."

"But…doesn't he have anyone…?"

"Well…he mentioned a couple people; he's always talking about his "big brother" Arthur…he won't shut up about the man…and then he mentioned a "Matthew"…"

"Wait, so where is this Arthur and Matthew?" John asked

"I don't know" Samuel shrugged, "I tried asking him. Apparently, Arthur's back in Britain, and Matthew is in French-Canada."

"So…he's all here by himself…" John asked, staring back at the boy, who had once again occupied himself with the wings.

"Yea." Samuel shrugged, "He came to me one day, and when I asked him about his parents, he just…got really quiet. He misses this "Arthur" character quite badly."

"He can't be older than 13…" John said, "And he's all alone out here…"

"Yes" Samuel nodded, "I come out here as often as I can…try to keep him company, you know? I'd imagine he would get lonely out here all by himself. What I don't understand is why he'd choose to live all the way out here, rather than in Boston. He's smart. There's a lot he could get from living closer to the city. We don't only work on the wings, you know…we talk a lot, mostly about some philosophers…Locke and Voltaire, just to name a few. He's fascinated by these "Enlightenment" ideas; you should hear him go on about them sometimes."

John nodded, watching the boy labor carefully over the wing, his slender fingers quickly making changes and adjustments, "Why did you want me to meet him?" he finally asked.

"He asked to meet you."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly that." Samuel shrugged, "I mentioned I had a cousin named John…he smiled and said, "John Adams. I like that name. Could I meet him?" Who was I to deny him?"

John frowned , then shrugged, walking past Samuel and to where the boy sat, "How is the progress coming?" he finally asked softly.

Alfred looked up at him, beaming brightly, "It's great! I can't wait to show Arthur!"

"Um. Yes. Arthur. Where is he?"

Alfred's smile faded, and he looked away from John, his attention refocused to the "wing" in his hands, "He's not here now. He's busy. He has a lot to work to do an' stuff. S…so I can't bother him! I…I've gotta be big an' strong, so he won't hafta worry 'bout me, and someday…someday I'll protect him, an' provide for him, an' then…then he won't be busy no more, an' he can stay with me!"

The boy's voice had grown progressively shakier as he talked, his fists clenched into little balls. John frowned, uncomfortable with the boy's obvious pain and loneliness. Here he was, a young lad of only thirteen, out in the wilderness all by himself with nobody to turn to.

"Alfred…um. Arthur." John coughed uncomfortably. He had never been particularly good at dealing with human emotions, "Um…I'm sure he'll be back soon." Kneeling by Alfred, he placed an arm around the boy's shoulder, pulling him into a somewhat awkward half hug.

Alfred looked up at John, his eyes slightly glazed over with tears. Then, without another second's notice, he tackled the other boy to the ground, crying and sniffling rather loudly, as he covered John's cravat with mucus and tears. Patting his back, John tried to soothe the boy, "Come now, come. Don't cry…he'll be back..."

Alfred cried for a few more minutes before his tears subsided to a light sniffle, and then, nothing.

"Alfred?" John asked looking down at the other boy in his arms. Much to John's surprise, he was asleep, apparently worn out from his time with Samuel and the crying session. Ordinarily, John would have had nothing to do with such "rubbish" but something about the boy prevented John from shoving Alfred off his chest where he had fallen asleep. Perhaps it was pity, the sympathy he felt for the poor, lonely child…but no. John frowned. There was something more. He studied the boy's face carefully, a warm feeling, something akin to love and a strong desire to protect the sleeping child bubbling up from within him.

"John?"

"He's asleep Samuel"

Nodding, Samuel leaded over, and after a quick nod from John, picked the sleeping figure off the ground, and carried him into the small cottage.

"Samuel?" John asked, trailing behind his second cousin.

"Yes?"

"Alfred…there's something…"

"Strange about him?" Samuel finished, reaching the bedroom of the house and gently depositing Alfred onto the bed, "Yes. I know…I don't know what it is. When I met him…it was just…strange. I…I felt ready to die for this boy, to give him everything I had, to help him in any way that I could…and I had just met him!"

John nodded, frowning slightly, "I feel the same. It's strange…like, I need to protect him, to help him. This Arthur. I don't like him. How dare he just leave Alfred here…all alone, by himself! Good god, what kind of irresponsible parental figure is he! "Oh, let's just abandon our son here and go prance across the Pond!" I don't give a damn how busy that bastard is, he should be back here, protecting and caring for Alfred!"

"Shh" Samuel said, "Not so loud John, you'll wake him up."

John frowned, and hesitantly, reached out, laying his palm flat against Alfred's forehead, "He's so young, Samuel…" he stood there for about a minutes in silence, watching the up and down movement of the boy's chest before drawing his hand away.

"It's getting late, Samuel. We need to go back into town."

"I'm assuming you'll be riding on my horse?"

"Of course, you blathering imbecile." John replied, loftily, striding out of the house, "Now come. The ride back to Boston is rather long, no? We need to return back home by sunset."

Samuel smirked, following his cousin to where the horse waited outside.

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**So I Samuel Adams was somewhat of a contriversial figure in American history. Some people see him as basically a terrorist, others as a patriot. I just see him as a guy with a deep love for his nation...and horribly brash. So, idk...Alfred would get along with him well...like, you kno those friends you do stupid shit with? (hence the willingness to chuck alfred off a SMALL cliff) Yea. them. **

**John Adams, on the other hand, is absolute love. Seriously, I love that man to death. Which is kinda strange, cuz I don't necessarily agree with all his ideals...but I still love him. And all the founding fathers. They're just full of love and awesome~This fic was set when John was about 16 years old; right before he left for Harvard. Sam is 8 years older. **

**I kinda see sam and john as rivals in private..brothers but not quite. i mean, sam was the fiery patriot, and john, while "obnoxious and disliked" tended to be more of a thinker...they were second cousins. **

**And before anyone freaks out, yes, I know Sam Adams never tossed his country over a cliff, and this senario never happened. Creative lisence? **

**Reviews? And feedback...continue this or leave as a oneshot?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Decided to continue this. Sorry if this isn't very good..I was horribly rushed when I wrote this. **

**This is set in Williamsburg, when Jefferson is 17-18. It is set in the early 1760s. **

**Francis Faququier was an English govenor who was a good friend of Jefferson and a sympathizer with the revolution.**

**This chapter was mostly inspired by "He plays the violin" from 1776. i ADORE that song, especially how awkward adams is in the whole thing. XD if you've never seen it, youtube it. 3 **

**Anywho. Enjoy~**

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The night was warm, if not a bit humid and the lone figure leaned over the balcony, studying the grounds below him. Music filtered in from the large, well-lit room next to the veranda, accompanied by the sound of chatter and the occasional laugh.

The boy on the veranda was young, perhaps just reaching young adulthood. He looked around 17, a tall, lanky thing with red hair pulled back into a ponytail. His hands and feet were rather large, especially in proportion to his body, making him look somewhat awkward and gangly.

He held a violin in one hand, the bow in the other. After a few minutes of silence, he lifted the violin up, tucking it under his chin, and allowed the low melody of the instrument to sound over the grounds. He played for a few minutes, relishing the music and the near silence surrounding him.

"Watcha doing?"

Startled, the boy jumped up, almost dropping the violin. Another boy had appeared on the veranda, watching the red-head with interest. He was appeared younger than the other and a bit shorter. His hair was a golden blonde and his eyes a bright, piercing blue. So absorbed in the violin had the taller boy been, he had not noticed the other sneaking up on him.

"Um." The boy with the violin said, staring down at the younger who was peering up at him with interest, "I'm playing the violin."

"That's pretty neat!" the other chirped, grinning, "Can I try?"

Somewhat taken aback by the boy's forwardness, the red-headed boy shrugged, "Why not. Give me your name, and may."

"Alfred F. Jones!" the boy responded, smiling, "I'm here with my big brother! He's a friend of Governor Faququier. I'm not one for parties, really, so I might've snuck out…"

"Snuck out?"

"Um. Yea. Don't go get my brother, ok?" Alfred asked, smiling sheepishly, "I really don't wanna go back in. Anyways! You never gave me your name!"

"It's Jefferson." The boy responded, "Thomas Jefferson."

"Thomas Jefferson…" Alfred responded, frowning, "That's a mouthful. I'm just gonna call you Tom, ok?"

Thomas chuckled, "Very well. Tom it is then."

"Great! Now that we've properly introduced ourselves an' whatnot, can I try that violin?"

Thomas smiled at the boy, handing him the instrument and then watching as he hefted the violin onto his shoulder, trying to mimic the position Thomas had held.

"You just do it like this, right?" Alfred asked, running the bow over the strings. A terrible screeching sounded from the violin and both boys flinched.

"That's not how you sounded" Alfred muttered, sounding rather petulant as he let the bow fall to his side.

"Yes, well I've had many years of practice" Thomas said, smiling as Alfred handed the violin and bow back to him with a small pout on his face, "Do you enjoy music?"

Alfred shrugged, "Well enough I suppose. I really don't mind the music at these parties."

"But you don't like the parties." Thomas observed.

"Nah. I hate the formalities, you know?" Alfred asked, "I mean, I hate these suits" he said, pulling at the collar of his suit, "And I hate how you always have to be poised and proper…ugh. I wish I could be out in the field. Working, or just horseback riding…"

Thomas chuckled at the obvious discomfort on Alfred's face, "Why do you come to them then?"

Alfred sighed, slumping over the railing, "Artie makes me."

"Artie?"

"Yea." Alfred grinned as he looked up at Thomas, "My brother. He's an officer in the British Army. Anyways, he's very busy, so he's not here very often. I miss him a lot when he's gone, so it's really nice when he comes back. He's been really busy lately, with the war going on, you know? So, when he comes back, I'm very happy. I…I don't want to upset him, or be a disappointment…but I just hate this. Artie's used to it. They do stuffy things like this all the time in Europe. I suppose I'm just not used to it then?"

"Indeed" Thomas nodded, "Perhaps if you told Artie that you did not enjoy these problems, he would not make you go?"

"I've told him." Alfred shrugged, "But…well, he still sees me as a child. So, he doesn't really trust me to make decisions. Everything I think, say, do, they're just childish impulses in his eyes."

"That must be horribly frustrating."

"You have no idea" Alfred moaned, "I live by myself most of the time. He's over in Britain, so I've got to take care of myself. You'd think that, well, after living alone for such a long time, he'd trust me more. It's not that big of a deal, but I really do wish he would just believe in me a little. I'm not a child anymore. Why can't he see that?"

Thomas shrugged, "He loves you. The world's a rather cruel place. He doesn't want to see you hurt and tries to shelter you."

"I'm tired of being sheltered." Alfred replied, "Come, you must agree with me. What is the point in living if you spend all your time inside? If you aren't allowed past set boundaries, if you're just _caged_, not allowed to talk to others, to make your own decisions…what kind of life is that? I want to _live_, not just exist. I hate it, but at the same time…it's what is best for me. Artie said so."

Thomas frowned, before leaning over the balcony next to the boy, "You make a very good argument." He said, nodding. He stared up at the darkening night sky, "So you escape outside?"

"Yes. Like I said, I can't stand it. The dancing, the formalities, it just drives me crazy."

"You don't like dancing?"

"No. It's too stiff."

"Perhaps you just haven't been taught by the right person."

Alfred glanced over the Jefferson, his bright blue eyes somewhat confused, "Artie taught me though."

"Well, perhaps Artie was the wrong person."

"But Artie's never wrong!"

"Why do you say that?" Thomas asked, "He's human, isn't he? Thus, he is subject to error. Everyone is, really; be they the kings of the most powerful nations or the lowliest yeoman."

"But…" the boy seemed fully confused now, "but…"

"Here." Thomas stood, pulling the boy back from the balcony, "Let's try this. I'll lead."

The music from the party could be heard on the veranda as Thomas gently set his violin aside and pulled the boy to the center of the veranda, "Now. First things first. Relax. Your shoulders are far too tense."

Alfred frowned slightly, apprehension evident on his face before taking a deep breath and allowing his shoulders to drop.

"That's better" Thomas nodded, "Now. Do you remember where you put your hands?"

"Yea." Alfred grumbled, placing one hand on the taller boy's shoulder as Thomas put his hand on Alfred's hip.

"Good. Your position is fine" Thomas nodded, ignoring the slight scowl that seemed to settle over Alfred's features, "Now, come. You know the basic steps, right?"

With Thomas leading and counting, the pair fell into a rhythm, Thomas' "one two three" dictating the pace. They danced for a few minutes, at a slow and simple tempo.

"This is exactly how Artie does it." Alfred grumbled after some time, "See? Told you."

"Hm." Thomas nodded, "Well you certainly have the basics down then…"

Grinning, Thomas suddenly started to dance faster, the waltz they had previously been doing slowly deteriorating into a swirl of footwork, "When you dance" Jefferson explained, the grin never leaving his face, "Don't constrain yourself to what you were taught. _Dance_ to the rhythm, to the music. It's not just "one-two-three", it's just a way to express your _emotions_ towards the music."

Thomas removed his hand from Alfred's lowering it to the boy's waist, and using the momentum the pair had built up, lifted him into the air as he twirled, laughing aloud at the other's surprised expression.

They danced for a few more minutes, Alfred's expression no longer irritable. He was flushed slightly from the energy taken to keep up with Thomas, and a small smile had wormed its way onto his face.

"So you don't have to just dance like you were taught?" Alfred asked.

Thomas laughed, "You don't have to do anything anyone tells you. You're your own person, right? So you should be allowed to make your own decisions and choices. Who is someone else to tell you what to do?"

Alfred seemed to consider this for a few seconds as they danced before finally asking, "But…what…what if someone tells you to do something, and you hafta listen to them?"

"Why do you have to listen?"

"Well…well, just _cause_."

Thomas shook his head, "Alfred, listen to people you respect. Listen to people who _deserve_ to be listened to. Don't just blindly follow someone because you're "supposed" to listen to them. If they want you to listen to them, they must work for your respect. Respect is not something that you just give out because someone demands it, or precedent says that you must; respect is something that _you_ decide to give, respect is something that people must _earn_. Think for yourself. You seem to be an intelligent boy. Question why you have to listen to a person, question why they have the authority to demand you do something."

"But Artie said…"

"Enough with what Artie said!" Thomas cried throwing his hands up in the air as the pair came to a stop, "Don't you see Alfred? Isn't there a possibility that Artie is wrong? I don't care if Artie was ruler of the world; he is still subject to err."

Alfred seemed to be processing Thomas' outbreak, chewing on his lower lip as he thought, "Artie… "

"Alfred?"

The pair looked up as another young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stepped out onto the veranda. He wasn't very large, but carried himself with a manner that spoke of great power and rank. His eyes were a brilliant green, framed by two rather large eyebrows. He wore a formal suit, adorned heavily in heavy ornaments that spoke of great wealth.

"Artie?"

"Alfred!" the man exclaimed, taking a few steps over to where the two stood, "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!"

"Ah…" the boy frowned, looking to the side as he fidgeted with his shirt sleeves, "Well. Um. You, you know I don't like parties like this. So…so I just went outside."

"Alfred" the man said sternly, "You know these events are very important! You have to get to know the governors and upper class members of the colonies."

"Yes, but Artie…"the boy whined, "I hate things like this."

"I have realized that" the man replied, shaking his head, "What _are_ we going to do with you Alfred?"

The man seemed to have finally noticed Thomas, for his frown quickly turned into a polite smile, "You were the boy playing the violin, no?" he asked, "I never had the pleasure of formally introducing myself. My name is Arthur Kirkland."

"Kirkland" Thomas smiled, and bowed slightly, "Thomas Jefferson."

"Jefferson? You're a good friend of the Faququier, no?" Arthur asked, "He speaks highly of you."

"He is a kind man and gives me far more credit than I deserve" Thomas replied.

"Nonetheless." Arthur said, "Your services will provide invaluable in the coming years. Have you considered a position in the government? The British Empire could use an intelligent man such as yourself."

"You flatter me"

"I am not an idle flatter, dear boy. Consider my proposition. Now, Alfred, come. You have yet to meet the governor."

With that, Arthur led a reluctant Alfred from the veranda. As they crossed back into the main room, Alfred sent one glance back at Thomas. It was a small smile, somewhat secretive as if Alfred knew something that Thomas did not.

The strangest sensation jolted through Thomas' body, as if he had been suddenly awakened from a strange dream, when the boy disappeared through the doors. Frowning slightly at the boy's strange expression and his odd reaction, Thomas picked up his violin, turning it over and studying the instrument briefly, "What a bizarre child…" he muttered aloud.

The wailing of a lone violin soon wafted over the party once more.

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**Sorry if it wasn't as good... I was in a really big rush. I just love the idea of Jefferson teaching Alfred how to dance and play the violin...idk. XD **

**I think Franklin is next. I'm not sure tho. I know I still have to do Hamilton, Madison, and Washington tho. Washington is last. That's the only guarantee in order. I might throw in some others (Henry, Handcock, etc..) but idk. =3=**


	3. Chapter 3

**So. Haven't updated anything in forever. Hope you forgive me! . 2011 in 9 hours! :D Hope ya'll have a fantastic New Year! If the formatting of this fic is strange, I'm sorry. FF is being super retarded and keeps sending what I typed at the beginning to the end. **

* * *

**Philadelphia, 1723**

The growing city was bustling with life as people rushed to and from work. Young men hurried to and from their trade, perhaps occasionally stopping to flirt with the young women that also hurried about. Children ran through the crowded streets, screaming at each other as they played their games. It was mid-fall, chilly enough for the many people to wear heavier clothing but not quite the biting cold that winter would bring.

A young man, no older than seventeen walked quickly by the shops, his grey eyes, though somewhat dimmed with weariness, shining with cleverness and perhaps even a bit of mischief. His appearance was disheveled, clothes worn and hair, which was a light brown, greasy and wet. He was by no means a large or intimidating figure. Squat, thick, and no taller than six feet, his appearance might even be comical, had it not been for the intelligence spark that was obvious in his eyes and his wide mouth, which seemed quirked upward in a perpetual smile.

The man paused outside a small inn, and reaching into the knapsack he carried on his back, pulled out a small coin purse. Frowning slightly, he emptied its contents, a few coins, into the palm of his hand.

"Watch out!"

Looking up, the man was surprised to see a large horse that had somehow gotten loose from the carriage it had been attached to galloping towards him. Before he could react, he was shoved, hard, sending himself as well as the coins in his hand and the few contents of the knapsack tumbling to the muddy ground.

"Oh goodness!" he felt hands grab him and was hoisted into a sitting position, crying out as a sharp pain shot through his hand and knee, "Are you alright!"

The carriage driver squatted by him, holding him up, "I'm fine" he nodded, looking down at his hand and knee. Both were bleeding, mixing in with the mud and dirt from the ground, "It isn't anything serious" he reassured the panicked carriage driver, "Just a shallow cut. I need to get it cleaned up there will be no harm done." He looked around, frowning slightly, "The horse…where is it?"

The carriage driver pointed to where, a few yards away, a young blonde boy grabbed hold of the horse's reigns. He was young, perhaps only a year or so over ten, and could not even have been a quarter of the horse's weight.

"He cannot handle that beast on his own!" the man cried, looking up at the driver, "He is too small and young! He'll be brained for sure! Go help him!"

The blonde boy, however, seemed to directly contradict the man's claims, for with a quick tug, he brought the horse down to all fours, and held it there despite the animal's struggling.

"He pushed you out of the way" the carriage driver responded, sounding slightly awed, "But how in the devil is he holding her down?"

The man on the ground watched the blonde as he stroked the nose of the horse, whispering soft nothings into its ears. Once confident the animal was calmed, the blond turned to the carriage driver, "It's safe now. She was just somewhat spooked."

Nodding, the carriage driver turned back to the man on the ground, "Can you sit up on your own? I must attach her back to the carriage"

"I'm fine" the man reassured the carriage driver, smiling for extra measure.

The driver hurried over to where the blonde stood, took the reins from him, and quickly led the horse back to the carriage. The horse out of his hands, the blonde boy turned his attention to the man on the ground.

"Looks like some nasty cuts you got" the blonde said, examining the other boy's hand.

"I'll live." The other responded, smiling, "Thank you for saving my life."

"No problem!" the blonde chirped. His eyes were a bright blue and features rather youthful, "It's what heroes do! Save lives!"

"Oh really now? Well I suppose that makes you a hero now, no?"

Nodding eagerly, the blond stuck his hand out, "But as a hero, I couldn't just leave you sitting here! Let me help you up! What's your name, anyways?"

Taking the blonde's hand with his uninjured one, the other man laughed slightly, "It's Benjamin Franklin."

"I'll call you Ben" the boy decided, his blue eyes, sparkling with happiness, "And you can call me Al!"

"Al?"

"My name's Alfred" he explained, "Alfred F. Jones. Now let's go find you somewhere to wash off."

Alfred helped gather the few items that had gone spilling out of the knapsack back into the bag before slinging it over his own shoulder, "You're injured" he explained solemnly, "So let me carry it."

The two made their way over to the inn that Ben had been examining before the incident when Ben stopped suddenly, "I'm terribly sorry Al" he explained, "But I have no money. The last of what I had was knocked out in that accident, and even before that, I barely had enough to even buy a roll."

"Then I'll pay."

"Though your kindness is much appreciated, I hesitate to take money from someone I have just met." Ben responded, "You have no way of knowing if I will pay you back. Is this something you really wish to do?"

Alfred paused, turning to look back at Ben. His blue eyes suddenly seemed different, as if he knew something that Ben did not, "I'm not worried" he said, shrugging, "Firstly, I simply cannot just leave you lying there, and furthermore…" he turned away, grabbing hold of Ben's uninjured hand as he did so, "I feel like you will repay me, far more than what I am giving you now."

With that, Alfred led Ben into the inn.

* * *

The inn was very simple and rather quaint. Alfred and Ben got a small room, sparsely furnished and rather plain.

"Wait here." Alfred instructed Ben, running out the door before Ben could ask Alfred where he was going.

Sighing as the door slammed shut, Ben couldn't help the small grin that spread over his face. Alfred appeared a few years younger than him and was full of a childish innocence and wonder that Ben couldn't help but enjoy, but at the same time…the grin slowly slipped into a much more thoughtful expression. He couldn't shake the feeling that despite his appearance and obvious childish ideas of heroics, Alfred was much older, and had seen much more than Ben.

Shrugging his jacket off, Ben collapsed on the bed, completely worn out, and fell quickly asleep.

* * *

"Ben? Hey, Ben!"

Sighing, Ben opened one eye to see Alfred leaning over the bed, staring at him, "I know you're tired, but we really should get those cuts cleaned up…and actually, the rest of you while we're at it." Alfred explained, poking the other boy in the side, "I had some hot water brought up, and there's soap and a washcloth you can use."

"Thank you Alfred." Ben smiled, sitting up and wincing slightly as he put pressure on his injured hand.

"Careful there" Alfred said, helping him up, "I'm going to run out again, ok? Just take your time and be sure to clean those cuts!"

When Ben came out of the bath, cleaned and significantly refreshed, he saw that his old clothes had been taken away and replaced with a new, clean set. It was a simple outfit, something that he was thankful for; dark breeches, a white shirt, and a simple coat and cravat.

He toweled off and slipped into the clothes, wondering where Alfred had disappeared off to. As if on cue, the door burst open, revealing the exact boy Ben had been wondering about.

"I truly hope you don't mind that we changed your clothes" Alfred said, "But yours were in such bad shape, I thought you would be fine with this arrangement."

"I am extraordinarily thankful for all you have done" Ben responded, "Truly, I don't know how I can repay your kindness; you save my life, provide me with a bath and now a fresh set of clothes?"

"Do not worry about payment" Alfred shook his head, "Now, come." There is food downstairs and I assume you are hungry, no?"

Ben's stomach rumbled in response, startling the two. Looking momentarily surprised, Alfred burst out laughing, "Well, I suppose that's an answer." Taking Ben's hand, he led him downstairs. It was rather crowded and the two made their way over to a table, where two plates full of food already sat.

"Come now, eat" Alfred said, sitting down in one of the seats and indicating towards the seat opposite of him, "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I just order the same as mine. Is that fine?"

The dinner was fairly basic; a large piece of meat, potatoes, greens, and bread. The two ate in silence, the only sound passing between them the occasional slurp or swallow.

"Why aren't you eating your meat?" Alfred asked, noticing how it lay, untouched, on Ben's plate.

"I'm vegetarian" he explained.

"Wait. So you don't eat meat?"

"No."

"Why?"

Ben shrugged, "There are a few reasons. I can save money by not eating meat. Also, my meals take a shorter time to prepare and eat, leaving me more time with things I find more important."

"Such as…?" Alfred prompted.

"Reading. Chess. Magic Squares. Reading especially."

"You enjoy reading?"

"Oh yes" Ben nodded, "My father was not a wealthy man, but wished for me to receive an education with the clergy. Unfortunately, he only had enough money to send me to school for two years. So I continued my education myself, through books. They are expensive, however, and rather difficult to come by."

"Is that why you have come to Philadelphia?" Alfred asked, "Or have you lived here your entire life? I usually am rather good at guessing where people are from, and your mannerisms do not seem to correspond to this city."

"No." Ben shook his head, "I am from Boston."

"Well what business do you have in Philadelphia?"

Ben hesitated, frowning slightly, "I haven't the faintest idea as to why" he said, "But…I feel as if I can trust you. I have barely known you for even half a day. It would be easy for me to make up a story; I could make up a business, no? After all, Philadelphia is a rather large city. How would you know if I were lying?"

"I do prefer when people tell the truth" Alfred smiled, "And most have the tendency to trust me."

"Indeed" Ben said, his gray eyes scanning the other's face, "Well, since I have made it rather obvious that my business may be frowned upon by many members of society, it would only make sense to come clean. I am a fugitive. I ran away from my brother, James', printing business where I was an apprentice."

"Why?" Alfred asked, "Did you not like the job?"

"The job? No." Ben shook his head, "I loved the printing business. It was my brother…"

"What happened?"

"My brother, I suppose, was proud." Ben explained, "And he, of course, would never let a lowly apprentice, such as myself, write for the paper. I however, truly wanted to, and as such, began writing under the pseudonym, "Mrs. Silence Dogood". I would slip my writing under the door of the printing shop door at night, and he would print them, convinced it was a widow who was writing these. I wrote perhaps 16 of these papers before I decided to tell my brother the truth of the matter."

"How did he take it?"

"He was jealous" Ben responded, his voice slightly tinged with bitterness, "He scolded me for it."

"So you left?"

"Not exactly." Ben shook his head, "I stayed for a while after that, but my brother soon came to head with the Mathers over inoculation. He believed it made those sicker instead of curing them. While most of Boston supported him, he…went too far I suppose. He poked fun at the clergy, and which made him horribly unpopular and eventually was thrown in jail. I ran the press while he was in jail, keeping the business alive until he got out. He thanked me with many scoldings and even the occasional caning."

"Problems with your brother, huh…" Alfred asked, frowning.

"Yes" Ben nodded, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes…I have a brother as well." Alfred smiled, "We get along rather well though, and while he doesn't live with me, as he is in the British government and must travel oversees quite often, I could never imagine just getting up and leaving him one day."

"And indeed that is what I believed when I entered my brother's printing shop." Ben sighed, "I certainly hope your relationship with your brother remains as wonderful as it is now, and you are never forced into such a position as mine where you must make the decision between staying in misery or leaving for happiness."

Alfred laughed, "My brother, Artie, and I aren't separating anywhere in the foreseeable future , so don't worry."

Alfred finished off the last of his meal, yawning and stretching afterwards, "You can stay at the inn tonight" Alfred said, "I talked to the innkeeper and he said he was comfortable with letting you stay as long as you needed to. It will give you time to find new work here."

"Why are you doing all this?" Ben suddenly asked, "I sincerely appreciate your kindness, but even you must realize that I have no way of feasibly repaying you."

"As I said before, I'm not too terribly worried." Alfred smiled, "I am a very good judge at character, and while you may not have money to repay me, and indeed we may never meet again, I have the feeling you will repay me someday….far more than what I gave you. Perhaps not in money, no, but in a different manner."

"A different manner" Ben murmured, staring at Alfred. There was undoubtedly something strange about the boy, something different. As if he wasn't really as single boy, a single being, but much more.

_Something I want to protect_ Ben realized, somewhat startled by the revelation _Something I want to help, that childish innocence and wonder, that dreamer idealism, the hopes of being a hero…I want to keep it alive. _

"Ben?" Alfred asked, snapping the other out of his musings, "You ok?"

Ben nodded, "I'm fine, Alfred."

"Ok. Good. I've got to head back home now." Alfred stood, smiling at the other.

"So this is goodbye?"

"For now" Alfred shrugged, still smiling "Call it a hunch, but I have the feeling that we'll be seeing a good deal of each other in the future."

* * *

**Background info on Ben Franklin at this time: He had just run away from his apprentinceship under his brother, James, who ran a printing press. During this time period, doing so WOULD make you a fugitive, as running away was illegal. Because of the treatment he recieved at the hands at his brother, however, he broke this law and took a boat to NY where he hoped to find employment as a printer. He didn't, so he walked across New Jersey and finally reached Philadelphia via boat on Oct. 6, 1723, where he used the last of his money to buy some bread. While he did not run into Alfred in his dishevled state, he did meet Deborah Reed, whom he would marry seven years later. Franklin WAS a vegetarian, but broke from this practice while running away when he ate some fish. I think he took it up again after he settled down, but I'm not entirely sure. **

**Anywho. That's that. Sorry for the wait. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Decided to come back to this story as well. Not too sure where I'm gonna go with it still, maybe just a series of one-shots? Idk. **

* * *

**1772-Boston**

The young man swore quietly under his breath, frowning as he stared at his heavy luggage. He had dropped it twice already, once of course on his foot, and was getting impatient and tired. Straightening up, he looked around, his eyes, a brilliant shade of azure sweeping about the bustling city for any sign of guidance. He looked to be about 16 years old, standing at about five foot seven with auburn hair pulled back into a simple pony tail, his figure thin and rather elegant despite his simple clothing.

Seeing nothing that could help him, he signed, his gaze once again returning to his luggage. His voyage across the sea had been long and wearisome and he wanted nothing more than to lie in a warm bed and sleep for days on end. The city was unfamiliar to him and though he knew the approximate location of where he was to meet the carriages that would take him to his final destination, he was unsure as to how to get there.

"You need a hand?"

The man looked up to see a younger man, barely out of boyhood smiling at him. He looked to be around 14, perhaps 15 with blue eyes, blonde hair and a bright smile. He had about him the gangly awkwardness that accompanied his age, with hands and feet too large for his body and his simple clothes ill-fitted on his narrow shoulders.

"Some help would be appreciated" the man said, smiling as the other, to his astonishment, easily lifted his heavy luggage, "Goodness man you possess _extraordinary_ strength."

The younger man laughed, a bright and easy sound that brought a smile to the other's face, "So I've been told" he said, "Where are you heading, stranger?"

"New Jersey. I am to attend the Elizabethtown Academy."

The younger man nodded, hoisting the luggage over his shoulder and making his way down the street, with the other following behind him, "So you're going to the carriages then. I'll walk you over to them. Education though? That's exciting. Any idea what you want to do?"

The younger man's speech was frank, his mannerisms simple and open, "I hope to become a lawyer someday, sir." The other man responded, speaking stiffly, uncomfortable in the new and unfamiliar environment and careful to avoid the bustling crowd that swelled about them.

The other man laughed, "Hey no need to be so formal with me. I could never stand formalities, really. What's your name anyways? I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Alexander" the man, Alexander responded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at how open Alfred was, "Alexander Hamilton."

"Alexander Hamilton, I like that name" Alfred smiled as the two walked along, "So where're you from? You're not from the colonies; I can usually tell where people are from when they are from the colonies."

"No, I'm not." Alexander admitted, "I'm from the Caribbean actually, I lived there my entire life. And what of you?"

"Around" Alfred laughed, waving a hand aimlessly, "I travel quite a bit you see. Why the colonies though?" Alfred asked, fixing Alexander with a rather curious gaze, "For your education, I mean."

Alexander frowned, "Well the colonies have quite reputable schooling and it was the best we could afford."

"Your family?"

"Of course."

"What are they like?" Alfred asked, "Your family, I mean."

"Oh well." Alexander shrugged, fidgeting, "There is not much to say about them, really. I've a brother, mother, father, not much of an extended family. What about you? What is your family like?"

Alfred laughed, "Well…I've two brothers. An older brother and a twin, Arthur and Matthew. Matthew's great, a bit quiet but I love him nonetheless. Arthur…well Arthur's Arthur. He means well, he does really I understand that but, well we've not been on the best terms as of late." Alfred frowned, "We've not been seeing exactly eye-to-eye really...nothing too major mind you but it is rather frustrating at times."

Alexander nodded, "Older brothers are difficult to manage at times." He confirmed, "Have you no other family besides your brothers?"

Alfred laughed, "No, I've not. But come, you mentioned a mother and father, who undoubtedly love you enough to send you far away for you education. What are they like?"

"Mother is…well mother is brilliant, really" Alexander smiled, a sad, bitter smile, "She's hard working and resourceful. Horribly stubborn though. And father, well father's wonderful. He's brilliant as well, independent, hardworking…" Alexander chuckled, "Actually, it was rather problematic, they were both such spirited individuals, they would argue quite often but they loved each other. They had to."

Alfred frowned, "Mr. Hamilton." He said, softly, "I am sorry for your loss."

"Whatever do you mean?" Alexander said, abruptly, staring at Alfred.

"You switched to the past tense when talking of your parents." Alfred said, ignoring the other's stare, "They've been dead for some time now, haven't they?"

"Well. So I did." Alexander laughed, a hollow and empty sound, completely devoid of any mirth, "How absolutely foolish of me. Not even an hour into these new colonies and I've already slipped up. I really cannot imagine how I could have made such a careless mistake." Alexander shrugged, "But you are correct, sir. My mother is dead. I assume my father is too."

"Assume?"

"I have not spoken to the man in some time." Alexander responded, shortly, "He left."

"Oh goodness."

Alexander shrugged, "It was quite some time ago. I don't even really remember it." He frowned, looking rather confused as he fixed Alfred with a curious stare, "Why am I telling you these things? I barely know you and yet here I am, spilling my entire life story to you."

"No, not your entire life story." Alfred said, softly, "There is more isn't there?"

Alexander tensed visibly, "Of course there is. There is always more." He said, his eyes fixed on the ground before him, "But no matter. It is a thing of the past. I came here, to these colonies to put all of that behind me. Nobody knows me here, nobody knows of my past, of my family, here I may start fresh. Of course, with my family gone you must realize that they are not funding my education. No, my community decided it would be worth their time and efforts to send me to the colonies to receive an education. For them, I am eternally grateful."

Alfred nodded wordlessly and the two men lapsed into silence as they walked along. Alfred finally broke the silence when they finally rounded a corner and saw the carriages, "This is where I leave you Mr. Hamilton." Alfred said, smiling as he deposited the luggage by a carriage.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Jones." Alexander responded, smiling and grasping Alfred's hand in his own, "Though I doubt we will ever cross paths again, I will never forget your kindness towards me in this strange city."

"The pleasure was mine, Mr. Hamilton" Alfred responded, warmly, returning the smile, "And I would not rule out us ever meeting again. I have a strange suspicion we will see each other in the future though as to when, I cannot say."

"Then I look forward to that meeting" Alexander said, "But until then, I wish you all the best in your endeavors. Hopefully you will be able to work out a situation with your older brother. It is never pleasant when brothers quarrel. I am certain though, that the bonds of brotherhood that hold you together will preserve your relationship."

"The same to you and yes, I certainly hope so, Mr. Hamilton" Alfred nodded, "I certainly hope so."

* * *

**1775-New York**

Alexander frowned, flipping through the pamphlet he had picked up as he walked through the busy streets of New York. It was late, nearly nighttime and he was returning to his quarters for the evening after a day out. He was older now, more accustomed to the bustle of the colonies and currently attending the King's College of New York. Reading the pamphlet, he snorted derisively, "How can they condemn our Continental Congress after all they have done?" he murmured to himself, "Really, this is absolutely ridiculous…"

He had been so absorbed in his readings he hadn't noticed the other man, also looking down and reading, hurrying towards him. There was an inevitable collision as the two distracted individuals crashed into each other, each falling back onto the streets.

Alexander frowned, rubbing his bottom as he quickly staggered to his feet and rushed over to the man he had run into, "I am terrible sorry" he said, as he helped the other to his feet, "I was not paying…" his sentence died on his lips as he, with a small gasped, realized he recognized the young man he had run into.

"Mr. Jones?" he cried, recognizing the mop of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, "You are Mr. Jones, right? Do you remember me? You helped me when I first came to the colonies! Goodness, well it appears you were correct about our meeting again."

Alfred blinked before a large smile bloomed across his face upon recognizing Alexander, "Mr. Hamilton wasn't it? Yes I have not forgotten you! How has your education been coming along?"

"Wonderfully." Alexander beamed, before stooping down to gather the pamphlet he had dropped, "I am currently attending King's College, which is why I am in the city."

"King's College?" Alfred asked as also leaned down to pick up the papers that had scattered about in their collision, "That is absolutely fantastic. I must ask you though, if you are attending Kings, then you are familiar with Myles Cooper? I was reading a piece of his when I quite literally ran into you actually. He is a loyalist and has published some rather influential pieces on the matter of British governance."

"Dr. Myles Cooper, The President of the college?" Alexander asked, "Of course. Why?"

"Mr. Hamilton, be frank with me" Alfred said, a small frown pulling at the corners of his lips, "What do you think of Dr. Cooper's writings?"

Alexander frowned, "Well…I disagree with them. Yes. I disagree with them. I am safe in assuming that you have read a number of his opinions as well?"

"I have"

"Have you read the Farmers essays in response?"

"Of course" Alfred nodded, "There's been much speculation as to who authored those essays. I believe some have claimed Mr. William Livingston wrote them?"

"They would be wrong." Alexander said, shaking his head, "For I authored those essays."

"You!?" Alfred cried, "You wrote them? Goodness man, you are far too young to have written such responses. You speak the truth?"

"Absolutely" Alexander nodded fervently, "And Mr. Jones, I believe every word I wrote."

"You suggested some rather radical ideas."

"I did."

"Such as an American War for independence."

"Yes."

"You even wrote some rudimentary military strategies that would defeat the British, one of the most powerful militaries in the world?" Alfred's head was tilted slightly to the side, his eyebrow cocked.

"I predict that, were a war for independence to occur, France and Spain would become involved" Hamilton explained, "And then the best policy to defeat the British would not be a grand battle on the open plains, but rather the harassment and exhaustion through frequent skirmishes and incursions."

"And the possibility of the American colonies one day overtaking the British motherland as the foremost economic power?" Alfred pressed.

"I have faith." Alexander responded, "I am young, yes I understand that and while some may use my youth as an example of how little I know of the world, I have had already many experiences individuals my age could never even imagine. I firmly believe that if we look forward to a period, not so far distant, we shall perceive that the productions of our country will infinitely exceed the demands, which Great Britain and her connections can possibly have for them. And as we shall be greatly advanced in population, our wants shall be proportionally increased." Alexander shrugged, "At which point, it would be perfectly reasonable to assume the economic capacity of colonies would overtake Great Britain."

Alfred nodded slowly, "Mr. Hamilton, you certainly have some interesting notions. Things are…tense between the colonies and Britain now…but complete separation seems horribly unfeasible. I do not know if the colonies are ready to leave him."

"I do not completely advocate separation, Mr. Jones, not yet at least." Alexander explained, "But rather that the basic rights of Englishmen be restored to us in the colonies."

"I see, I see." Alfred nodded, "Come, Mr. Hamilton, since fate seems to have placed us once again in each other's paths, let us walk through the town a bit, see the sights and perhaps discuss these issues further? I realize it is late but I feel like talking."

Alexander nodded and soon the two men were walking down the street, discussing the recent British grievances they felt the colonies had endured.

"You know, Mr. Hamilton, I am horribly impressed" Alfred finally said, "You are truly an extraordinary man, your ideas are well developed and you hold such a complete grasp over your expertise that individuals your age generally do not impressed."

"I am flattered by your praise, Mr. Jones." Alexander said, his cheeks pinking slightly, "But you also command a rather extensive knowledge of the events and issues of today."

"I certainly hope I would" Alfred said, chuckling lightly to himself, "But Mr. Hamilton…" he paused for a second, frowning as he listened hard, "Wait a second, can you hear that sound?"

Alexander paused, also listening. He could hear a slight dim in the distance, the sound of loud voices rising, "Yes, it sounds rather like shouting? Come, it seems to be originating in this direction."

The two men hurried along towards the sound and soon they found themselves in a large square where a rather impressively-sized crowd had gathered.

"What is going on here?" Alexander muttered aloud.

"I…I've no idea." Alfred's voice sounded rather strained and Alexander looked, rather confused at his companion, "Mr. Jones?" he asked, rather shocked at the sudden change that seemed to have overtaken his companion. Alfred's cheeks had become rather flushed and his eyes, a brilliant shade of blue suddenly seemed so much brighter. _Too bright_ Alexander thought briefly, "Mr. Jones are you feeling well?!"

"Oh goodness, Mr. Hamilton." Alfred moaned. Alexander looked quickly around at the crowd. They were holding torches for light and listening to a man on an upturned crate who was speaking passionately about taxing and Boston and other things Alexander would have normally loved to have discussed. However, at the moment he was too preoccupied with the sudden illness that had overtaken Alfred to actually pay any attention to the man's speech.

The crowd, however, seemed to be clinging onto every word the man said and soon the shouts were growing in volume and intensity. "Come, Mr. Jones" Alexander said, attempting to help Alfred by slinging his arm over his shoulder and supporting the boy's lanky, still underdeveloped form, "This environment is no good for anyone, much less one whom is ill. Let us leave."

Alfred, however, much to Alexander's surprise, shoved him off and stumbled a few steps away from him,"No." he said lowly, "I can't leave. I'm _needed_ here."

"What are you talking about?" Alexander demanded, "Mr. Jones, this is simply a rally of sorts…" but even as Alexander spoke, he could tell the crowd was rapidly growing more frenzied. His stomach knotted unpleasantly; he had never liked large, excitable crowds. They often led themselves to far more radical violence than he could ever be comfortable with.

"I'm needed here" Alfred repeated again, staring at Alexander with his eyes, bright,_ still far too bright_ and slightly glazed over, "My people. They need me."

"Mr. Jones you are ill and need to return home!" Alexander cried, "This crowd…it worries me."

"Will you march with us?"

"March? Mr. Jones, we have just arrived here you do not even know what this man is saying and yet you wish to march with them- Mr. Jones you are really quite ill, I must insist that you desist your strange behavior-"

"You said yourself" Alfred had straightened up now, ignoring Alexander's protests, "You support the Patriots, correct?"

"Yes?" Alexander said, the question evident in his voice, "But Mr. Jones this is no time to discuss such matters, we must leave and quickly."

"Then march with us" Alfred said, smiling, a strange, crooked expression,"We march to destroy whatever damnable Tories are lurking in these parts."

"Mr. Jones, we literally just arrived here, how do you even know what this gathering is about?" Alexander cried, exasperated.

"I know." Alfred said, his voice strong and confident, "We're marching on King's College."

Alexander's stomach dropped and the sense of unease that had been bubbling in the pit of his stomach quickly turned to one of dread, especially when he saw the man on the box, who seemed to be the leader, produce a wicked-looking blade, and the crowd surrounding him responding with cheers and raised clubs and torches, "Mr. Jones." He said, lowly, "What do you mean. King's College…Tories…you can't mean Dr. Cooper."

"What does it look like?" Alfred replied.

The crowd had worked itself into a complete frenzy by now and Alexander, looking about with horror, realized their intentions, "You…you cannot be serious!" he cried staring at Alfred, "You intend to join this mob!? Mr. Jones pull yourself together you cannot seriously advocate this kind of behavior, you surely are a more reasonable individual than that! You intend to mob a man and murder him, strip him naked, humiliate him, whatever sick perversions this mob will lend itself to _simply because he spoke out in favor for what is unpopular_!?"

"We are going to fight against the tyranny!" Alfred cried back.

"Not by this! Not this way!" Alexander screamed, pulling at Alfred, "Goodness man, _control_ yourself!"

"You said you agreed with the cause!" Alfred cried over the growing volume of the crowd, "You said you were on our side!"

"I did, I _do, I AM_!" Alexander screamed, grabbing at Alfred's arm and pulling him back, "But this mob? This terror? This is _wrong_, this is _sick_, this is not what we, what America needs! This only harms our beloved cause of liberty, staining her hands with unnecessary bloodshed! How is this chaos, this...this _mindless killing _any better than what we have now!?"

"Don't you dare tell me what America needs" Alfred growled, snapping back and glaring at Alexander, "Who are you but a single man in all of this? Oh yes, a brilliant man, a clever man I know this, I realize this, but you are a man nonetheless. How could you know what an entire body wishes, what they desire!? No, Mr. Hamilton, let _me_ determine what America wants."

Alexander dropped Alfred's arm quickly as though burned. The look on Alfred's face had changed substantially from the open, friendly expression that Alexander had begun to associate with the young man. Instead, his expression was wild, feral, powerful, and Alexander realized with a sudden jolt in his stomach, almost superhuman. It was as if Alfred F. Jones was no longer the simple, open man he had crossed paths with briefly years ago but something more, something infinitely bigger, something that Alexander could not quite place.

And it frightened him quite badly.

Alexander stumbled back, his eyes fixed on Alfred's own, "A…Alfred" he managed to choke out but there was another outcry and the younger man was swept away with the crowd that had begun moving.

Alexander looked wildly about him, suddenly aware of his surroundings as though he had been woken from a dream. Stumbling from the swelling crowd, he staggered down the streets, his face pale and haggard but mouth set in a determined line. He could hear the crowd, no the _mob_ in the distance and, with only a second of hesitation, he began running forward.

Though he could not agree with the ideas of the President, he realized that what the crowd was about to do was simply _wrong_. He absolutely abhorred the mob violence that had sprung up so recently in the colonies and the idea that the President of his own college was targeted by one of these violent, mindless outbursts made him nauseous. Weaving through the back streets, he quickly made his way towards the college, where the mob was headed. He needed to warn the President.

Luckily, Alexander was very familiar with the streets of New York and took a quick short cut to the college, running the entire way and fighting down the panic that was rapidly clawing its way up his throat. Even as he ran though, he was well aware he would be unable to convince the mob to cease and any persuasion that seemed too loyalist could result in his own…well. He had heard the stories and was certain did not want his to end in such a gruesome way. However, Alexander knew that he could not simply sit aside as such violence tore innocent men apart.

_"But you said you were on our side_!" Alfred's words rang through his mind and he shook his head. Why did the boy make such a strong impression on him? He had only met him twice and for such a brief period of time too. He did not seem particularly learned or brilliant. Warm, earnest and open, yes but there was something else about Alfred, something that Alexander could not quite identify that absolutely fascinated him.

"I _am_ on your side, Alfred" Alexander muttered to himself as he ran, "Whatever side that is, oh goodness Alfred, you _child_ why do you not understand this!?"

Alexander reached the college in record time, the sound of the mob still ringing in his ears. He could tell they were not far behind him, their angry cries renting the night air. Without any hesitation Alexander quickly ran to the President's office, making sure he locked the gates to the residency behind him before running up the stairs and throwing the doors open without knocking "D...Dr. Cooper!" he gasped, attempting to catch his breath, "You…you must leave!"

"Mr. Hamilton?" Dr. Cooper and another man Alexander quickly recognized as his roomate, Thomas, jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion but quickly calmed upon recognizing Alexander, "I've heard there is dissent and a mob calling for my head? Your friend, Mr. Ogden has also given me reason to believe my life is in peril from these so-called Patriots." Dr. Cooper was already standing with a small suitcase in one hand, "Thank you, however, Mr. Hamilton, for your warning."

"Leave by the back window" Alexander said, gasping, "They come from the front. You have means to leave New York? You will not be safe here."

Even as Alexander spoke, they could hear the clamor of mob outside, fast approaching, "Go now" he cried, throwing the window open and helping the President out.

"You should leave too, Mr. Hamilton" Dr. Cooper said, his dark eyes briefly searching Hamilton's face, "I know we have had our disagreements but…these times are dangerous. Seek shelter. Stay safe."

"Do not worry about me, just go!" Alexander cried. With one last nod, Cooper, still in his nightgown, dropped out of the window and was soon hurrying off into the night, accompanied by two men Alexander did not recognize.

"What are we going to do." Thomas suddenly spoke up, "The mob is here, look Alexander they are tearing down the gates even as we speak. Dr. Cooper will not have sufficient time to escape."

"Then we buy him time" Alexander responded, steeling himself and running back down to face the mob.

"Alexander!" Thomas cried, but he ignored his roomate. Running out onto the steps, he saw that indeed the mob had all but torn down the gate in front of the residence and were now rushing towards the President's now-empty office.

Steeling himself, he stood firmly upon the steps and cleared his throat, and held his hand outstretched.

"People of New York!" he cried, his voice stern, strong and steady. The mob stopped, staring at the young man in front of them, their eyes suspicious and faces drawn into scowls, "I know your purpose!" he continued, once he knew he had their attention, "I know what ails you! I understand your suffering, the grief you have felt at the hands of this tyrannical monarch!"

The mob roared in approval at his choice of words and Alexander felt a small rush of exhilaration. He could do this. He could play the crowd and buy the President time he needed to escape, "Too long have you been oppressed by this government that claims to protect you, that _claims _to know what is right for you! A monarch, sitting on his throne clear across the sea knows how to govern a land he has never even seen!"

Blue eyes.

Alexander felt Alfred's eyes on him before he saw them but quickly he fixed his gaze on the young man, refusing to look away even though Alfred's eyes were all but _burning_ through him, somehow reflecting the stark madness, the chaos that Alexander so hated of the crowd.

"They would strip away our rights, rights that we are promised, rights we are _guaranteed_ as Englishmen!" Alexander roared and though he knew he spoke to the entire mob, it felt as if the only other person in the world was Alfred. He glared at the other man, trying to reach out, to convey the importance of his message, trying to persuade Alfred with his words, his voice, everything he had to offer that yes, he was on his side, that yes he cared for him and that yes, he supported the Patriots but not like this. _Never_ like this. Alexander had no idea why it was suddenly so imperative that he convinced this single man to see the horrors of the mob, but he knew that he absolutely had to pull Alfred away from the crowd and away from the madness.

"They would condemn our Congress, they would deny our claims to the West, and they would punish our sister city of Boston, our sister colony of Massachusetts! And for what? We have only acted as is natural, we have only retaliated when the heavy yoke of the British monarchy was thrust upon us, we have only asked for our basic rights!" Alexander pressed on, his voice unwavering, "The British Empire was once our caretaker, our guardian. She cared for us, once upon a time. She was our mother land, our elder brother." Something unreadable flashed in Alfred's eyes and Alexander pushed on, "But those times are gone" his voice was rising, "No longer do they see us as a valuable member of the empire but a mere tool. We are _not _their equal; we are their lesser as far as they are concerned! They do not see us as anything more than a land to plunder, to use! They do not trust us to even manage our own affairs, restricting our trade and taxing our people excessively! And yet! And yet! They still refuse to give us representation in Parliament, they do not see us as worthy of taking into our own hands _our own fate!_"

The crowd roared in approval, though Alexander hardly heard them, all of his attention and concentration directed at Alfred, "My brothers, we all fight for this same cause, this one purpose of liberty, of self-determination!" Alexander continued, "But to do so we must look at ourselves first! Look to our own actions, our own conduct! What we are doing now, this anger, this kind of violence, this does not promote our cause! No, this only disgraces and injures the glorious cause that we all fight for, the glorious cause of _liberty_!"

"We must compose ourselves!" Alexander cried, impassioned, "We must fight, yes we must take back what is rightfully, by our birth, ours but not in this manner! I stand with you! I believe that you have been treated unfairly that you have suffered unjustly! But come my brothers this is not the manner in which we must fight for our rights!"

"Tear the bastard Cooper apart!" a voice cried out in response and the mob cheered, pulling Alexander back to the reality that he was not alone with Alfred, but surrounded by a large, volatile mob. Alexander looked away from Alfred, glancing quickly around and saw the many faces, still angry but no longer wild and enraged, staring back at him, "Push the boy aside, he means well but we must destroy that damnable dog of the crown!"

Alexander opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the mob was upon him. Buffeted by the crowd, he fell back, watching helplessly as the mob quickly descended upon the locked doors of Cooper's residence.

"That was very brave of you." A voice said, quietly, before Alexander had been able to jump to his feet. Looking up, Alexander saw an outstretched hand and took it.

"Mr. Jones." Alexander said, curtly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and dusting off his clothes, "Have you at least come to your senses?"

Alfred's eyes had lost the madness they had been burning with and his face had lost its fevered flush, "Yes…I…I don't know what overcame me. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Hamilton. Thank you for your speech. Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Speak to the mob in such a frank manner?" Alfred asked, watching as the mob finally tore the doors down and poured into the now-empty residency, "They could have-they _would_ have torn you apart in a matter of seconds. You disagree with Cooper, why did you risk your life for his?"

"I will express myself frankly, damn the consequences", Alexander said, "I believe in the cause that has swept our colonies in recent years but understand this, Mr. Jones. I ultimately believe in the superiority of forgiveness over revolutionary vengeance. Our fight for liberty will mean nothing if it is stained with the blood of men who are guilty of no other crime than the expression of a different opinion."

Alfred was silent for a few minutes, mulling over Alexander's words, "You are an interesting fellow, Mr. Hamilton." He finally said, straightening up, "I must be going now though…this mob gives me a headache."

"We will meet again?" Alexander suddenly asked, "I find myself drawn to your company, though I do not know why."

"Perhaps." Alfred shrugged, "I do believe so, quite frankly. Until then, Mr. Hamilton. Do not bother to get in touch with me though; I will find you."

And with that, Alexander watched as Alfred hurried off into the night, with the cries of the angry mob tearing into the night.

* * *

**A/N: So Hamilton. I have SO MUCH respect for this man. Okay so his childhood sucked, badly. His mother left her first husband and married Hamilton's father, but not with ease. Her first husband publicly humiliated her, and in this period where people were sexist pricks, essentially pushed all the blame of this abusive relationship onto her. The Hamiltons eventually had to return to the island where Hamilton's mother left her first husband and Alexander and his brother, James, were treated like shit, referred to as "obscene" and "illegitimate" children and their mother as a whore. Hamilton was even denied entry into school b/c the school was controlled by the church and they did not apparently see him worthy b/c of his mother's status. So he was self-taught with books. **

**Eventually, to make shit even better, Hamilton's father left the family, which was horrible on Hamilton b/c he was so close to his father. Then his mother died of a terrible fever. Now this all happened by the time he was eleven. Or 13. We don't actually know Hamilton's birthdate. Shortly after his mother's death, his mother's first husband showed up and took possession of all of his mother's property, which, since Alexander and his brother were "illegitimate", they had no legal claim to. This left the 11-year old Hamilton orphaned and with absolutely nothing (seriously this sick fuck TOOK from an 11-year old kid whose mother had just died and father had left him. If that's not scummy, I don't know what is.) **

**So Hamilton and his brother went to go live with a cousin but only for a year b/c the cousin, distraught over the death of Hamilton's mother committed suicide. **

**And by this time, Hamilton was completely alone. His brother had gone off to be a carpenter's apprentice, his family was dead, and he had absolutely nothing. He worked as a clerk and was soon recognized for his brilliance. His community raised money to send him to the colonies to receive an education and while there he eventually ended up at King's College, which is today Colombia University. He received his BA from there in only one year then began pursuing his law degree, which he never received b/c of the revolution. While at King's he began publicly expressing his support for the revolutionary cause, though he absolutely hated mob violence. The scene where he rescued Cooper from a mob did happen, though some accounts apparently say Cooper, slightly deaf, thought Hamilton was encouraging the mob and yelled at them to not listen to the "fool". However, this probably was not true as he was probably fleeing for his life at this time.**

**Also, interestingly enough he actually predicted (through his Farmer's works published in 1774/75), the strategy that the Americans would use in defeating the British empire, including the involvement of France and Spain and the use of guerrilla tactics. **

**And we haven't even touched his major contributions t****o the US. So yea. This dude was absolutely brilliant, surpassed ALL odds and was VERY attractive. (seriously, go look at a ten dollar bill). And, of course, always fighting with Jefferson. :) As Adams said, he was the "_bastard_ brat of a Scottish peddler" but despite that contributed SO MUCH to America.**

**Also, as a personal headcannon of mine I think Alfred WOULD have gotten caught up in the mobs, since he's really influence (I think pretty much controlled)by his people. So if he's in a situation where there's a mob of his angry citizens, he'll instantly become inflamed and support the cause, even if he normally wouldn't, which is why he appeared weird when they encountered the mob and joined them right away. But Hamilton helped him come to his senses I guess.**

**I'm going to continue writing oneshots for the founding fathers for this story. I plan on doing Madison and Washington but I'm debating other figures. Any thoughts or suggestions on the matter would be much appreciated and as always, feedback is fantastic. :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: New chapter. Hope y'all enjoy. :)  
**

* * *

**France-1770**

The halls of the estate were luxurious, wide and grand with high ceilings decorated in ornate architecture and walls covered with beautiful paintings and plush tapestries. A young man, dressed very smartly in a beautiful lavender coat, dark breeches, and a powdered wig wandered about the halls, making his way aimlessly with clearly no purpose or direction. He looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, the beginnings of adulthood finally starting to show on his still rather childish face. Pausing momentarily, he looked about the large hallways, before walking onwards, his brow furrowed.

The young man had come to the estate for a rather lavish social event, one where all of France's elites would be mingling with some very special foreign guests, or so he had been told. As it were, it was his first time at this particular venue and he had arrived an hour or so early. With nothing better to do, he had taken to wandering about the halls of the grand palace, enjoying the beauty and splendor of the estate. However, he was becoming quite bored and soon found himself yearning for some interesting company to pass his time. He turned a corner, his dark eyes lighting up when he saw another young man, sitting alone on a bench outside a set of rather impressive-looking doors.

The young man quickly hurried over to the other, a small smile tugging at his lips, "Hello, monsieur!" he called out as he approached, "Are you here for the social event that is to occur this evening?"

The other man, a young blonde also looking to be around thirteen or fourteen with bright blue eyes jumped up, clearly startled. He was dressed much plainer than the other and looked horribly out of place in the grand halls of the estate, with a simple, dark coat and his blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"Um, yes I am" the blonde man responded to the other, speaking slowly in very heavily accented French and stumbling over his words, "Why do you ask?"

The other man shrugged, "I am horribly bored and realize the event is not to start for some time. I came early, unfortunately and have nothing to do in these rather grand halls. Would it be too problematic if I troubled you for your company?"

The blonde man smiled, a warm and inviting expression, "Of course not. I am terrible bored myself. My older brother is currently attending a meeting" he said, jerking his head towards the door, "And I was instructed to simply keep out of trouble until he was finished."

"Why do you not attend the meeting too?" the young man sat down next to the other, "Surely you are old enough by now to engage in the family business, whatever this may entail, Monsieur."

The blonde chuckled, "Oh goodness, no. It really is not my place to attend such meetings, Monsieur…?" he looked inquisitively at the other man, "But before we get to our stories, I believe a proper introduction is in order? You can call me Alfred."

"Then you may call me Gilbert." The man in the lavender waistcoat dipped his head politely, "So, Monsieur Alfred, what sort of business is it that your brother is invested in? I suppose it has something to do with the French government; he would not be attending such a meeting in such a location otherwise."

"Well, yes, Artie, that's my brother, works in the British government." Alfred nodded, "He manages negotiations between the British and other major powers, including France…currently I believe they are having some annual European meeting in there." Alfred said, once again jerking his head towards the door.

"And you are in the business as well?"

"Somewhat" Alfred shrugged, "I am, I mean it is all very important to me because it directly impacts my livelihood, but I do not have a say in what happens. That is for Artie to decide."

"Well that is rather preposterous." Gilbert shook his head, "Why does your brother have such control over your happiness? Come, you are an adult it is time for you to forge your way in the world free of his influence."

Alfred laughed, "Oh, Monsieur Gilbert you do not understand." He said, shaking his own hand, "I know I appear an adult but I am still so very young and inexperienced, or so Artie tells me. And really, he knows what is best. He has had many dealings in this business and knows how to play the game. I, on the other hand, do not."

"So you should be in that meeting now, at the very least, learning how to play the game." Gilbert insisted, "It is not right for one individual to have completely control over another, no matter what blood bonds may hold them together."

"It is far more complicated than that." Alfred laughed, "It..it is supposed to be this way. Artie knows what he's doing. He'll always choose what's best for me."

"I must disagree with you on that statement." Gilbert shook his head, "And even so, is it not your right as an individual to choose your own path, no matter what mistakes they may hold? Build your own future with your own hands?"

"Not quite." Alfred's expression was somewhat melancholy, and for a second Gilbert was struck with the notion that Alfred, despite his youthful appearance had seen far more than any man Gilbert had ever met. His eyes, a beautiful shade of blue, while still radiating with youth seemed simultaneously aged beyond measure.

It was a rather strange and contradictory combination but the expression was gone a second later, leaving Gilbert back on the bench with only a young man his age.

"Monsieur Gilbert are you okay?" Alfred asked, looking rather concerned.

"I am completely fine." Gilbert assured Alfred, snapping out of his thoughts and shaking his head slowly, "Come though, these halls are rather stuffy and it is a wonderful day out. What say you and I take a stroll through the gardens of this estate?"

"I think I would like that" Alfred said, smiling and standing and following Gilbert through the halls.

* * *

"…I'm quite serious, there _was_ a werewolf loose and I was quite determined to catch it!"

"Really?" Alfred was staring at Gilbert in open amazement as the two wandered the gardens of the estate, "Why would you go after so dangerous?"

"Because that's what a hero _does._" Gilbert insisted, "A hero goes after the beast, determined to save and protect those he loves and all he cherishes."

"Are you a hero?"

"I'm going to be" Gilbert nodded, sagely, "I'm just waiting an opportunity to prove myself. I never caught the werewolf, but I'm sure something will present itself."

"And then you'll be a hero?

"Yes." Gilbert smiled, "Being a hero is a very admirable but dangerous thing. A hero has to be willing to put everything on the line, his life, love, happiness to protect what he finds important. And I'm going to do that."

"What are you going to protect?"

"I don't know yet" Gilbert frowned, "I'll know when I see it. I will find a cause that I believe so firmly in, one that is supported by men of great character and then I will know it is time. And no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice I will see to it that what I believe in comes to pass. That is, after all, what a hero's final goal is."

"A hero, huh" Alfred said, thoughtfully, "I…I think I would like to be a hero too, you know."

"We should become heroes together then." Gilbert said, smiling, "I will make this promise to you now, as a hero. I promise, should anything happen to you, I shall do all I can within my power to aid you."

"That is very kind of you." Alfred nodded, "But, come I must repay you somehow for such a promise…"

"There is no need, it is what a hero does" Gilbert replied, "Actually, I make this promise to you not as a hero, but as a friend."

"We are friends then?" Alfred cast Gilbert a sideways glance, his blue eyes searching the other's face.

"I would prefer to think so."

"I think I would too." Alfred smiled, and Gilbert was struck with how open and honest the simple expression was, "And I shall tell you what; we will both become heroes. I will give you a promise in return for yours. I promise you that I will become a hero and as a hero I shall do all in my power to ensure the world is a better place, since that is what heroes do, is it not?

"Yes, you understand, Alfred." Gilbert nodded a smile blooming on his face as well, "I am glad you do, the world could always do with more heroes."

Alfred nodded in return, his smile growing, "I think I shall enjoy being a hero, making the world a better place."

"It will be difficult" Gilbert cautioned.

"Yes, but I will fight for what I believe is right."

"No matter the enemy?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred paused, looking confused. The two had made their way onto a very small bridge on the path that crossed over a tiny trickle of water. A large and beautiful window, taller than both of them was on their left and a set of fruit trees on their right.

"Well" Gilbert stopped too, frowning, "Who's the person you love most in the world? Who do you trust more than anyone else?"

"Well…that'd have to be Artie." Alfred responded, "Though I rather do like Mattie too, he's also somewhat of a brother to me…we've been getting closer you know."

"Fine, let's use Artie" Gilbert said, "What if Artie told you to do something, asked for something of you and you knew, with all your heart with all your being with everything that he was asking the _wrong thing_. That what he wanted, well, it was bad."

"But Artie wouldn't do that." Alfred pointed out, "Maybe Francis would or Antonio, but not my Artie. That's why he's my big brother."

"But what if it happened, hypothetically what if Artie _did_ do that." Gilbert pressed.

"I don't care much for hypothetical situations." Alfred frowned, "But…if he did…well. I owe Artie everything, you must understand. He protects me from the world, makes sure I'm cared for, makes sure none of the others hurt me, so why would he ask me to do something that I thought was wrong? You are suggesting a near impossible situation. I mean..." Alfred bit his lip, looking down, "At least I think it should be near impossible. He's been a bit harsh in the last few years, we haven't seen eye-to-eye on some issues and have started fighting but I'm sure it is something that will blow over, or we can talk it through."

"That is why it is a _hypothetical_, Alfred" Gilbert said.

"Fine, fine." Alfred frowned, "Well…Gilbert, I did make you a promise to do what a hero would do. And a hero would put aside even the ones he loved to fight for what was right…so, in your strange, hypothetical situation that wouldn't ever happen, well, I don't think it will happen mind you, I…I suppose I would have to fight Artie and stop him."

"I wonder if you would." Gilbert said, smiling at Alfred.

"What does that mean?" Alfred bristled, "I would. Really, Gilbert I would."

"Your French has improved rapidly since we have begun talking." Gilbert suddenly said, staring hard at Alfred, "I just noticed that."

"It has?" Alfred frowned, "Well. You're correct, I suppose it has hasn't it?"

"Is French your native language?" Gilbert asked.

Alfred laughed, "No, and if Artie heard you asking that he would be livid."

"It is English then?"

"No."

"Well what is it?"

"I don't know." Alfred smiled and shrugged, seemingly completely undisturbed by the fact that he did not even know his native language.

Gilbert stared openly at Alfred for a few moments, trying to determine if Alfred was lying or joking but seeing the open honesty on the other's face shrugged too, "You are a strange individual, Alfred." He said, "I find you rather interesting you know. I cannot get a good handle on you, but I think I like you. We are friends, after all."

"And I find you rather fascinating as well." Alfred responded, "You know it is odd, I generally don't feel this kind of bond, this attraction with people outside the colonies. It really is rather strange."

Gilbert opened his mouth to respond, but a loud cry suddenly startled them. "STOP THAT DAMNABLE BIRD!" someone screamed and the two looked up, to see, much to their surprise, a small, yellow, and rather fluffy bird flying towards them at a speed that seemed far too fast for such a small creature.

Without thinking, Gilbert quickly jumped up in an attempt to catch the bird. However, Alfred had the same thought in mind apparently and the two, instead of catching the tiny animal knocked into each other and became entangled in each other's limbs, flying off the small bridge they had been standing on and into the large window.

There was a loud CRASH as Alfred and Gilbert went barreling through the window. Glass exploded around them and surprised screams sounded from the room the two had crashed into. Gilbert sat up slowly, wincing as he felt smaller pieces of glass imbed themselves in his skin and looked around. Many unfamiliar faces were staring at him with a mixture of shock and amusement, and Gilbert smiled apologetically around the room. They seemed to be wealthier individuals, their dress for the most part speaking of great power and rank. A soft groan caught his attention and Gilbert quickly turned to see Alfred sitting up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He shot Gilbert a small and guilty smile despite a small cut he had on his face before also looking around, the smile quickly sliding off his face.

"Alfred do you know these fine individuals?" Gilbert asked softly as Alfred's gaze seemed to fix on a young man in particular with rather thick eyebrows, unkempt blonde hair and brilliant green eyes who was staring at Alfred with his mouth slightly open. The others in the room were all looking at the two, a few with scandalized expressions on their faces but most smirking or grinning, their gazes flickering between Alfred and the man with the eyebrows Alfred was staring at.

"Ah…" Alfred said, "Um. Some of them."

"Alfred F. Jones." The man with the impressive eyebrows stood slowly, speaking English, his voice low and threatening, "What in the name of the King and all that is holy _are you doing._"

Alfred winced, and shot a small, guilty smile to the other man, "Ah…Arthur..." Alfred said haltingly, slowly rising to his feet and dusting off the glass that had stuck to his clothes, "Well, you see, I was just…well there was this bird, it was an accident you see…"

"Monsieur, I beg your forgiveness", Gilbert spoke up suddenly as he jumped to his feet. Though the men were speaking English, his rudimentary knowledge of the language as well as the tones that the two were using was enough to give him the general gist of the conversation. He ignored stares from the people in the room and the messy state his clothes were in, quickly composing himself, "This whole incident is my fault. I dragged Monsieur Alfred into this mess."

"And who are you." Arthur asked in heavily accented French, the furious expression never leaving his face.

"This is Gilbert, Artie" Alfred said, holding his hand out to the young Frenchman, "We were just talking, honest, you said I needed to talk more with the aristocracy of Europe."

"Gilbert is a horribly informal way of addressing this young man, Alfred." Another voice spoke up, and Gilbert looked over at the table to see another man, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and stylishly dressed in a dark blue coat with gold buttons stand up, "This is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette. He is a young aristocrat, entering into the Royal Army this year, if I am not mistaken. This is Arthur Kirkland, Monsieur Lafayette. He is…well I suppose you could say at the moment a _guest_ from England in our country."

Alfred's eyes widened as he tried to mouth the name back, "Can we just stick with Gilbert?" he asked, staring at his friend.

"You cannot just call him "Gilbert" Alfred!" Arthur cried, shaking his head as some of the people in the room began laughing and whispering among themselves, "Come, child I have taught you better than this! You cannot be so informal at these events."

"I do not mind Monsieur" Gilbert smiled at Arthur, "I have taken a rather strong liking to Alfred and do rather prefer some informality at times." He turned to the man with the blond ponytail who had been whispering something to his neighbor, a pale man with white hair, red eyes and a cocky smirk on his face, "Though you know of me, I am afraid I have not made your acquaintance yet monsieur?" Gilbert asked.

"Of course, I apologize" the man said, straightening before bowing deeply with a flourish, "I am Francis Bonn-"

"You two can have your introductions later" Arthur interrupted Francis harshly, "What I want to know is what _exactly_ Mr. Lafayette was doing with Ameri-my charge."

"It wasn't his fault, Artie, honest!" Alfred protested, shaking his head, "It was mine. Well not entirely. There was this bird and this guy was trying to chase it so we tried to catch it for him and we kinda messed up and went crashing through the window…" Alfred trailed off, his cheeks colored a dark pink in embarrassment, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves, and his eyes fixed to the floor, as though he was trying to avoid the stares of all the other individuals in the room.

Arthur shook his head, "Alfred, I asked you to keep out of trouble while I was at this meeting, is that so difficult? I cannot watch you while I attend these meetings and you should be old enough to watch yourself."

"Why do you not just have Alfred attend the meetings?" Gilbert spoke up, looking inquisitively at Arthur, "Surely he is old enough by now, he must be at least 14, to see the manner of your trade? I acknowledge I do not fully understand the manner of your work, Monsieur Kirkland, but even you must see the folly in keeping one as old as himself away from the business I do not doubt he is set to aid you in? Furthermore, this business impacts him so he should have some say in it, is that not correct?"

Gilbert had been completely serious when speaking, but apparently some found his questions amusing as a small ripple of laughs went through the room at his suggestions. Though the laughter seemed to embarrass Alfred further, Gilbert held his head high, staring coolly at Arthur and a few of the other individuals who laughed louder than their neighbors, in particular the pale man with red eyes who sat next to Francis.

"Alfred, despite his appearances, is not old enough to attend such a meeting and furthermore, Mr. Lafayette, it is not his place to attend such meetings. His position requires different obligations and duties." Arthur's voice was clipped and tense, and unlike some of the individuals seated around him, he wore no semblance of a smile,"You would do well to keep yourself out of matters that do not concern you Mr. Lafayette."

"I am a friend of Monsieur Alfred" Gilbert responded, levelly, "Therefore what concerns him concerns me."

"I can assure you that this matter is completely between Alfred and me and you really should stand down, Mr. Lafayette." Arthur's voice was completely calm and cool but the underlying threat was terribly obvious.

"I cannot while you abuse my friend, Monsieur." Gilbert said, matching Arthur's tone and glare despite the height difference.

"It looks like our Monsieur Lafayette has a bit of a fight in him, Monsieur Kirkland" Francis spoke again, smirking widely as his pale neighbor cackled, "But then he is from France and faced with one as uncouth and uncivilized as yourself, I suppose even such a young boy will defend what he believes to the end."

"You would do well to stay out of matters that do not concern you as well, frog" Arthur quickly spat back, glaring at Francis, "Or is this a thing in your country? To become involved in issues that you have no claim to?"

"Only when it involves one as _wonderful _as yourself, my dear rosbif." Francis smirked, "Then I always have a claim to it."

"Messieurs" Gilbert interrupted, partially because he was not fond of being ignored and partially because it seemed like the two men were about to lunge for each others' throats, "Let us remain civil here. I believe we were discussing Monsieur Alfred's attendance of these meetings?"

"Gil, please drop it." Alfred said, softly, putting a hand on Gilbert's shoulder, "I told you, Artie's my brother, he knows what's best, he doesn't abuse me or anything like that."

"But you told me so yourself." Gilbert protested, "You said that the matters which are dealt with at these meetings impact your livelihood and happiness as well. You are old enough to be a man; you have a right to take part in these discussions. To deny you this is undoubtedly abuse of the worst kind. Remember what we said about being a hero?" he asked, "Even if it's against someone you love?"

Alfred bit his lower lip and frowned, "Gil, it's fine. Really. It is. Artie's right. I'm holding to my word. I do not think he is wrong here. Like I said, you do not understand my relationship with him. So, really, yes it is okay."

"No, Alfred it isn-"

"And I suppose we are not going to get anywhere with this meeting?" Francis suddenly interrupted Gilbert, "We were pretty much at an impasse before Messieurs Alfred and Lafayette decided to drop in on our meeting, mostly of course due to the pig-headedness of our dear Monsieur Kirkland, and I sincerely doubt that a destroyed window and a wayward charge are going to improve the matter."

"I second Francis' proposal" Francis' pale neighbor waved his hand, smirking broadly "As much as I'd love to give our dear old "_Artie_" a lecture on how to properly manage his colo-I mean charges, I'm famished."

"You can't even manage _yourself_ properly, Gilbert" Arthur said, haughtily, "I don't want to hear such blather coming from you of all individuals."

"I don't know I haven't crashed through many windows in some time."

"The fact that you cannot even deny ever having done so speaks volumes." Arthur responded quickly.

"Alright, alright, enough with the bickering, come we are civilized individuals" another young, tanned man with green eyes, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and an easy smile held his arms up, "This meeting's over, let us get something to eat. How shall we take care of the…mess though?"

"I will take care of it" Arthur said, quickly, "Alfred is my responsibility so I am responsible for this mess."

"Nonsense." Francis laughed, a light tinkering sound, "Come, we'll have the servants take care of it, we cannot have you missing our dinner and social events. I know how you deprive yourself of proper food and entertainment and would not want you to miss an opportunity to experience both."

"Belt up, frog" Arthur said, glaring at Francis, "Come along, then Alfred. Mr. Lafayette, I would prefer if you left us _alone_."

Alfred shot Gilbert an apologetic smile before hurrying to catch up with Arthur who was already striding out of the room.

"Well you certainly managed to get under our dear _Artie's_ skin." Francis suddenly said, smiling at Gilbert, as the other individuals in the room slowly began filtering out, laughing amongst themselves at the spectacle they had just witnessed, "I congratulate you for that. We all love to see him squirm for all the pain he's caused us."

"Are you not friends?" Gilbert looked inquisitively at Francis, "And I did not mean to. I just believe Monsieur Alfred is being treated horribly unfair."

"Friends?" Francis chuckled, "Oh, my dear boy, Monsieur Kirkland does not have friends and had he any, I would certainly be the last person he would ever consider a friend. He has charges to keep him company, not friends. And quite frankly, Monsieur Alfred has been afforded many luxuries that few of his standing are granted. I suppose you could say Kirkland has a bit of a soft spot for the boy. He seems to be a wonderful child, but I do not doubt he is horribly spoiled."

"He is not a boy, could you not tell?" Gilbert responded, frowning, "Well not for long, anyways."

Francis looked curiously at Gilbert, "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"I don't…know." Gilbert frowned, "There was something about him that seemed…well it seemed off. I could not say what it was; it was almost as if he wasn't, well this is going to seem strange but it seemed as if there was something brewing in him. Something big. Something waiting to explode, coiled deep within him. It's only a matter of time before something gives." Gilbert shrugged, "What am I saying. I have only spoken to this man for a few hours and yet I feel as if I have known him for my entire life."

"You are an interesting individual" Francis said softly, "Not many can read others so quickly."

"I generally cannot" Gilbert responded, "And I could not read Alfred at all, he confused me actually. Just…I could tell that much. And monsieur." Gilbert looked quickly at Francis, his dark eyes scanning the taller man, "I could say the same for you."

"The same…?" Francis asked, a small frown tugging at the edge of his mouth, "No, Monsieur Lafayette, Alfred and I really are not similar. Well we are, in a way, but we are at such completely different positions in our lives to really be considered similar."

"No, see that is where you are wrong." Gilbert shook his head, "Something is brewing within you as well, I can tell. I can't say what. But something is going to change for you. Big change. Ah well, we shall see in the coming years, shall we not. I feel like we will be seeing each other more in the future. In the meantime I believe there is to be a banquet and I am rather famished. We never did catch that damnable bird that caused such a problem, what a strange looking creature it was too, yellow and fluffy. It did not really seem suited for flight, but I suppose it managed."

With that, Gilbert strode out of the hall, Francis trailing behind him and staring at the man with an intrigued expression on his face.

* * *

**And that's that. I WAS going to do Madison next but I suddenly had this idea for Lafayette so yea this happened. I'm still going to do Madison though! Lafayette was fucking AWESOME, a French aristocrat who also lost his parents at a very young age. He was left with a ton of money and married to another aristocrat (she was somehow related to the King, idk how exactly) by the time he was 14. I was reading on him and they started talking about how he had this huge "hero" complex so I was like "Well maybe THAT'S where Alfred gets it from." America owes him since he contributed so much (financially and in terms of the aid from the French), and his relationship with Washington was totally precious. Washington saw him as a son, since he didn't have any and Lafayette saw Washington as a father, going as far as to name his son "George Washington". (from what I understand Washington's "sons" included Lafayette, Hamilton, and Laurens). Anyways he was one of the strongest links b/w the French and American revolution so yea he was kinda fucking awesome. Though I don't think him and Napoleon got along well. I called him "Gilbert" through most of this b/c that was what his friends and family called him, I believe.  
**

**And it's 1770 so yea there was some dissent in the colonies but I don't think Alfred himself would really be upset with Arthur till a few years later. **

**And I'm totally taking some suggestions that were thrown at me as well as some others I've thought about so that should be really exciting! Thanks for reading, and reviews and comments are always appreciated! They're seriously the best motivation you could give a girl. :)  
**


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